


Too Long Since I've Been a Fool

by dnitegirl



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Amnesia, Deaf Clint Barton, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-02
Updated: 2016-02-02
Packaged: 2018-05-17 21:22:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,093
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5885665
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dnitegirl/pseuds/dnitegirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It had been ten years. Ten years since Wanda and Pietro Maximoff escaped this awful town and a little more than ten years since Clint last spoke to either of them. Considering he and Pietro were inseparable from the ages of ten to seventeen, there had been a void in Clint's life. Not that Clint could blame either of them for moving away, especially not after Clint had shoved Pietro as far out of his life as possible.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Too Long Since I've Been a Fool

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally a drabble prompt sent to my Clint blog on tumblr, but it quickly reached full fic length so I figured I should post it here. From my ‘Small Town’ Verse with my Pietro where Clint and Pietro are the same age and grow up together. The verse is greatly inspired by the 'Blue Neighborhood' Music videos.
> 
> I hope you enjoy!

It had been ten years. Ten years since Wanda and Pietro Maximoff escaped this awful town and a little more than ten years since Clint last spoke to either of them. Considering he and Pietro were inseparable from the ages of ten to seventeen, there had been a void in Clint's life. Not that Clint could blame either of them for moving away, especially not after Clint had shoved Pietro as far out of his life as possible.

At the time it had seemed like a good idea. Clint's hearing had been fucked up because his dear old man hadn't quite taken the knowledge that his son liked taking it up the ass very well and Clint didn't want Pietro caught in the crossfire. Wasn't even very hard either, considering it was easy to ignore someone when you couldn't hear them. Since Clint's dad didn't want to waste a dime on his own son's health and the Barton family was too poor for insurance, Clint had been moved to special ed classes for his last two years of high school.

At least Pietro seemed to be doing well though. Probably better than he would have been if he had let Clint drag him down. He and his sister had left not long after they graduated high school. Pietro didn't go to a college, which wasn't exactly a surprise, and instead pursued a much more lucrative career in motorbike racing. Just because Clint shut Pietro out of his life didn't mean that he didn't keep up with him. It was hard to not. After all, Clint was still hopelessly in love with him.

Eventually Clint's dad got himself and his mom killed and Barney moved back in. Clint wasn't exactly going anywhere either. Higher education wasn't in Clint's future and he had nowhere to really go. Barney had a decent job and Clint did construction work here and there. Nothing fancy but they made a living. Over time, one of his ears healed enough for a hearing aid to actually be helpful. Clint made sure they had whichever Fox Sports channels had motorbike racing so he could cheer Pietro on as best he could from the sidelines.

Clint liked to think that it was somewhat helpful because Pietro won race after race.

Every race of course until the most recent. Where Clint had to sit and watch as Pietro tried to pass another racer in a narrow window, watched as Pietro hit the barricade and went tumbling off his bike, crashing on live TV. The camera cut and Clint sat there in silence, tears flowing down his cheek. Minutes of hell passed as Clint waited for the announcer to tell them Pietro's condition. Critical, but stable it turned out. An interview with Wanda a few days later, she revealed Pietro would be taking a break while he recovered and they'd be going back home... where they grew up... the place where Clint lived.

That was all Clint could think about since.

"So... when you going down the street and saying hi?" Barney, his asshole of a brother asked from the kitchen.

Clint stilled from his position at the window, staring out between the blinds. His focus broke from three houses down and across the road where a red car was parked in the driveway. "I'm not. It's been forever and I was awful to him. They wouldn't want to see me."

"You know baby bro, all I ever hear from you is excuses. I let you steal the tv any time your boyfriend is on and the moment he's handed to you on a silver platter, you don't do shit." There was a rustle of newspaper and Barney came closer.

"Look. He's not my boyfriend. Not any more." He snapped back, turning to glare sharply at his brother.

Barney however was apparently used to this and just crossed his arms. "Yeah well who's fault is that?"

It was dad's, they both knew it without a doubt, but that didn't mean Clint was blameless. Dad was dead and nothing was holding Clint back anymore. "Shut up. He doesn't need me jumping back into his life to fuck it up."

"Yeah you just keep telling yourself that. I'm sure he and his sister moved back to this sad shithole of a town because of how much they want to avoid you."

Honestly, Clint had no clue why the Maximoff twins had returned to Waverly, Iowa when Clint was pretty sure any good memory must have been soured by him. "I'm sure they have their reasons." With a sigh, he turned away from his brother only to focus out the window again.

A focus that was once again interrupted by his brother, this time from a harsh pat to his back. "And I'm sure I'll have my reasons for tossing you out and locking the door if you don't go down to that house and say hi."

It was a threat Clint had no doubt Barney would honor. As much as Clint might have gotten stronger from the physical labor of construction, Barney was still five years older and seven times out of ten, would kick his ass. "Barney please... it's like twenty degrees outside."

"Then get your coat. I don't care if there's a fucking blizzard outside. I'm officially kicking you out until I see you knock on that door."

"Barney..." All he got in answer was a stern scowl and a finger pointing towards the door. "Fine. Have it your way. Hope you like watching your brother get yelled at as he freezes to death." And Clint slid up from his spot to gather his coat.

That was how Clint ended up walking down the street in a leather jacket and a beanie to a house he thought he'd never visit again.

The red car in the driveway he didn't recognize. Must have been Wanda's. She always had an affinity for the color red after all. If it had been Pietro's, Clint imagined it would be a slick showy blue. Aside from the color of course, it only made sense for it to belong to Wanda. Their parents drove an old truck and barely a few weeks after the accident, Clint highly doubted Pietro would be driving anything anytime soon. Heh, Clint would have bet money that Pietro was going stir crazy. In all the years Clint had known him, Pietro had to be moving, had to be doing something. Being holed up at home and told to recover was practically worst case scenario for him.

Was that why they came back here? Because there was nothing to do, nowhere to go in this stupid place?

It was the only thing Clint could think of that made sense.

Despite the freezing temperature, Clint stopped right in front of the Maximoff's door. He'd love to pretend that he knocked, to go back home and say no one answered, but Barney was smarter than that and was probably watching him right now. Clint took a few deep breaths, the cold dry air failing to actually relax him. His heart was working overtime, beating painfully hard in his chest. The nerves were consuming and he couldn't turn back. He was trapped, trapped here in the still air and it was like this moment was stopped in time.

He needed to do this. Needed to do it for himself, to tie up loose ends, to set his mind at ease. If they were going to yell, let them do it. Clint owed that much to Pietro. For the first time in ten years, Clint decided to stop being a coward and raised a fist to knock at the door.

There was no answer. Not at first at least. But Clint's entire perception of time was screwed up and he let some of the coward sink back in. He already started to and leave. That however, was just when the door opened.

"Hello?" Spoke a voice. Feminine... Wanda. It sounded... different than he remembered, but then again, last time he was actually able to hear her speak, he had two fully working ears.

Clint turned around to face her, steeling himself for the impending argument. "Uh... um. Hi Wanda." He gave a small, almost shy wave and what he hoped to be a friendly smile.

Her eyes went wide and her jaw slacked. Yep, here it came, the yelling and screaming and the 'stay the hell away from me and my brother'... but it didn't. Her face didn't pinch up into the violent expression he expected. Instead, it softened, almost as if she was relaxing, like she was.... relieved to see him. Was today opposite day or something, because this definitely wasn't how Clint imagined this going. Slowly she opened her mouth and spoke as clearly as her still accented voice could. "Hello Cl'eent. It has been a long time." What Clint found especially interesting was her words were matched with a near perfect sign language.

It was a small detail but it made his heart clench. Fuck. He didn't deserve this level of consideration, this level of kindness. Yelling would have been easier to deal with. At least he deserved that. Clint swallowed, fighting down a decade of repressed emotions. He sucked in another breath and tried smiling again, this time it was crooked. "Thanks. I appreciate the signing, really, but you don't gotta do that." Clint taps at his not completely destroyed ear, gesturing towards the purple hearing aid.

"Oh! I see. That is good. Yes, very good." Her smile was brightening by the second and that just made Clint feel worse.

"But y-yeah. It has been a while." His teeth chattered a little, probably from nerves, but Clint would blame it on the cold.

Wanda seemed to take note of this and pushed the door open further. "Please, come in. I would not be able to forgive myself if you froze to death on our doorstep." Apparently survival instinct overtook logic and Clint was stepping inside the rather cozy house. The door swung shut behind him. "It has been, what, ten years since you have stepped inside this place? I don't think much has changed. I suppose our parents wanted us to feel comfortable if we visited. But I must say, it started feeling far more empty when you stopped visiting. We all missed you."

There it was... the guilt, heavy and suffocating. He should have known Wanda wouldn't assault him with harshness. No, she would kill him with kindness. "I- I missed you too." His throat was tight and it felt like he had to choke the words out. "I'm sorry. About everything I mean. All the shit with my dad happened and... I just needed some time to get my life sorted out." Saying it aloud just felt like some sad excuse.

She nodded though, accepting his words completely. "I figured as much. After what happened to you, anyone would. You have nothing to be sorry about."

Clint begged to differ. Shutting everyone out completely as he had seemed like a perfectly reasonable thing to be sorry about, but for the time being, he just leaned against the wall and kept his mouth closed. If she did not want to condemn him, that was alright. Besides, there was someone whom he owed a far greater apology too. Thus brought up the elephant in the room. Wanda did not say anything, but he knew she felt the shift. She stood there, as if waiting for him to work up the courage to say it.

A few moments later, Clint finally opened his mouth. "Can- can I see him?"

With that, Clint felt the tension in the room dissipate, though there was still an unnerving air. Wanda looked pensive for a moment, then gave a softer, almost sadder smile. "I figured that was why you were here. Yes, you may see him. It will probably do him some good..." She was silent, losing herself in thought before adding, "Cl'eent, just know he is not well."

"I know he was in an accident, a crash." He should have expected it wouldn't be as easy as walking in and saying hi. Clint saw that crash, knew how bad it was, but for some reason, Clint didn't even let himself prepare for the idea that even if Pietro was alive, he wouldn't be in any recognizable shape. "I make sure to watch all his races. That's how I know you guys were here. How bad is it?"

"Physically, aside from a few burns and scars, he is... ok. Everything will heal. Mentally though, that is harder to say."

Clint's face turned white, and he had a million terrible thoughts surface. "Fuck. Please tell me he's not like, brain dead or in a coma or a vegetable or any thing like that."

Wanda seemed horrified at that thought and quickly pushed those worries aside. "No no nonono. Nothing that severe. It is his memory. It is scattered, spotty, hard to predict what he will and will not remember. He still has his motor skills and can walk just fine. Me he remembers well, but we have never been truly separated. That is why we returned here. This is where we called home the longest and some of his strongest memories are tied here. I just hope it will be enough to return it to a mostly normal state."

His stomach in knots, he asks in a quiet voice. "So... he might not know who I am?"

She shook her head. "More than likely he will not. He has missed you greatly as the years have passed, but as I said there is no way we can tell what he will know. Just prepare yourself for that Cl'eent."

Because he didn't really know what else to do, he just nods, still letting her words sink in. So much time went by and there wasn't a day he didn't think of Pietro. The best moments of his life had been when Pietro was at his side. For all that to have just been gone from Pietro's mind... what better way could karma fuck with him. "I'm about as prepared as I ever will be guess."

"He is in the garage working. It is a familiar activity so he feels comfortable there." She did not lead him there as he expected and instead just gestured in the direction he should go. "I will give you two your time alone."

Clint thanked her. She'd always been wonderful to him and despite everything, he appreciated her kindness. With that, Clint left the room and made his way through the house and to the garage. This house had once been more home to him than his own family's. The Maximoffs had welcomed him with open arms and let him come over practically every day and even let him stay the night on countless occasions. Mrs. Maximoff had even set a seat at their dinner table for him regularly.

So he was able to make it to the garage with no issues, the path from the front door to there was one he had walked hundreds of times before. He stopped in front of the garage entrance though as he had to the main door of the house. Another barrier for him to work past. Another uncertainty of what he would be met with on the other side. A muffled drill sound came from the other side and Clint found it comforting. Pietro holing up in the garage working away at his bike... just like old times.

Clint took another deep breath, his senses filled with the warm smells of the house, a strong contrast to the chilling outside air. He could do this.

Turning the knob, Clint cracked the door open, slowly pushing it open as to not startle anyone. Inside, crouched next to a blue motorcycle was Pietro. As much as Clint wanted to rush up to his side, he knew that probably wasn't the best of ideas. Instead, he just stood in the doorway, waiting.

The drilling stopped not long after. The lighting must have shifted when the door opened because Pietro lowered his tool and turned to look right where Clint was standing. They made eye contact and Clint felt a flood of emotions hit him at once. Love and regret and sorrow and longing. It was too much and he wanted to run away like he had done all those years ago. But this was why he was here, to face the ghosts of the past and Clint stood his ground.

Pietro squinted at him, as if examining him. He was being searched, analyzed, taken apart and dissected by Pietro's eyes but it was unclear if the other came to a conclusion. All Clint felt was the cold unfeeling glare though and he knew Pietro did not recognize him.

Clint gave a shaky wave, trying to break some of the tension. "Hey there."

Cocking his head, brows furrowed, Pietro opened his mouth and asked "Seein' as you came through the house...which one of my friends I don't remember did my sister send my way now?" His voice was... so much deeper from what Clint remembered.

"Oh. I'm Clint. I live a few houses down." He had hoped hearing his name would cause some shift, some reaction, some sign of an inkling of recognition. No such luck though.

"You will have to forgive me if have no idea who you are." Pietro sounded, not angry, but frustrated. While he wasn't familiar with amnesia, Clint still knew the feeling. To just wake up one day and have a part of you gone. To try your damnedest to get that part back and just have it constantly elude you.

"It's alright. Wanda told me that would probably be the case." Because the last thing Clint wanted to do right now was make Pietro feel worse.

What followed though was an awkward silence. Pietro's gaze shifted from Clint to elsewhere in the garage, going from the walls, to the floor, until he eventually just turned back to concentrate back on his bike. There was a withdrawn sigh that gave Clint the impression he was unwanted, that Pietro wished to be left alone with his bike. Not that Clint could really blame him, this whole situation was... difficult. Still, it was a jarring shift from the Pietro who loved his company in the garage. Pietro who used to drag him down here for his help... actually that gave Clint an idea. 

Taking a hesitant step inside, Clint asked, "Need a hand?"

Immediately Pietro spun back around to scowl at him. Oh right... Clint forgot that was a sensitive topic. Pietro loved his bikes like a mother loved her children. A 'stranger' touching one of his babies would never happen. That's why Pietro spent so much time in the garage, he made sure his hands, and well Clint's on occasion, were the only ones to touch em.

"I um... I used to help you out around here. I might not know the bikes as well as you, but I know my way around this garage better than I do some rooms in my own house."

Pietro was quiet for a moment and Clint was pretty sure he was having an internal debate to kick him out or not. He must have settled on an answer because he returned his focus to the bike before adding a slow, unsure command. "Grab me a 1.4 millimeter combination wrench and the belt tension gauge."

As if it were second nature to him, Clint immediately went to the wall lined with tools and pulled down exactly what Pietro had asked for. It may have been a while, but he really did have this room memorized and thankfully, Pietro's dad hadn't moved much around when his son moved out. Seconds later, Clint handed over the tools and Pietro seemed genuinely shocked. "Need anything else?" Clint questioned with a cheeky smirk.

Taking the wrench almost suspiciously, Pietro ignored the question and instead said, "You may stay."

The invitation was somewhat surprising, even if he passed the test. Pietro had always been wary of strangers. In these circumstances, Clint would have thought he'd be even more guarded than usual. But he wasn't going to question it too much. Clint smiled, warm, less teasing, and moved to settle right next to Pietro in front of the bike. Pietro watched him carefully, but let him sit.

For the most part, Pietro just sat there returning to his work. On occasion he'd ask Clint to fetch some sort of tool, maybe tell him to hold on to something, but Pietro did most of the work. Not that Clint really minded, it was what he used to do after all back in the past.

Conversation was slow and focused entirely on the task at hand. The important thing though was they were talking, the awkwardness from earlier lifting the more they conversed. Pietro seemed so at ease at work and his smile grew the more he shared little details about his bike with Clint. Even though Clint had never been as enthusiastic about mechanical work as Pietro was, he still soaked in every detail. It was hearing Pietro's voice after so long apart, just being in the same room as the other that kept him interested rather than the conversation itself.

Last time they really spoke, they were teenagers laying naked together on Pietro's bed. This was no where near as intimate, but Clint still relished it. Pietro was still sharing a piece of their time together that even though it was small, Clint still had missed.

An hour or so went by like that and even Clint could tell progress was being made. After a final turn of a wrench, Pietro stood up. Clint quickly followed.

Pietro turned to him grinning and gave him a quick pat to his back. "I think we deserve a break. Thanks to you, I might actually finish these repairs by the end of the day."

It was so familiar to their past interaction and Clint chuckled feeling as if nothing had changed. "Someone who you can actually work with... I bet you didn't see that comin'." A dumb joke, but a reoccurring phrase throughout their friendship, something that only made sense and meant anything to the two of them. Probably meant nothing to Pietro right now, but Clint couldn't help but let it slip when everything had fell back into such a natural flow.

Instead of the blank expression he expects from Pietro, the other laughs right along with him. Even if Pietro had no idea what he was referring to, that laugh alone warms his heart.

"Shut it Clee, I'm just picky."

Clee, the old nickname Pietro had for him, the nickname only Pietro had been allowed to use... For a brief moment, Clint allowed himself to think that the amnesia had lifted. Without thinking it though, Clint stepped forward to pull Pietro into a tight hug. He was so close to thinking he had his friend back.

Pietro just stood there. Didn't make any move to hug back, was just stiff and still.

Clint realized he fucked up. Slowly he let go and backed away. He was shaking and his mind was racing trying to figure out some way to fix this because he definitely just screwed up this friendship beyond repair. His foot caught on a wrench and he stumbled back a bit, just barely catching himself. His ears were still damaged and he probably had just heard what I wanted to hear. He cursed and he needed to run. Pietro just continued to stare at him with a confused glare.

"Shit... sorry. I didn't... I wasn't... Just ignore that. Never happened. I'll go if you want me to. What am I talkin about. Of course you want me to." And he was turning, ready to get the hell out of there.

Before he could make it a step though, he felt a hand at his wrist.

"Wait. Don't go." Pietro said hurried. "You can stay. If you want to I mean."

Clint stopped and spun to face him. It was an offer he would never refuse but it still confused him. He swallowed and searched Pietro's face for some explanation. Pietro's response was simple and gave Clint an honest hope that maybe all wasn't lost. Three words and Clint knew it would get better.

"I know you."


End file.
